The Sky is Falling
by Settiai
Summary: The next time Dean said that a building looked like it was about to collapse, Sam had better damn well listen to him.


Dean woke up to darkness.

He blinked, convinced for a second that he was blind, before a tiny sliver of light at least ten feet away caught his attention. As he let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding, Dean turned his attention to other matters. His head was throbbing, and he had a pretty good guess why he could feel something warm and sticky trickling down the back of his neck.

"Sam?" Dean barely choked out his brother's name before going into a coughing fit. He carefully rolled over to take some pressure off his aching ribs, though he didn't want to risk sitting up until he knew how bad they were. A punctured lung was the last thing he needed.

His coughing fit subsided after a minute or so, and Dean took a steadying breath before trying again. "Hey, Sammy, you there?"

There wasn't an answer.

Dean frowned and carefully propped himself up into a half-sitting position. His eyes were already adjusting to the dim light, and he could at least see some shadowy stacks around him. The ground underneath him was packed dirt, cold and hard as rock. Basement, maybe?

"_Damn, this dump looks like it could come down right on top of us."_

He groaned as his memories came rushing back. They'd been taking care of a haunting in Kentucky, in an old house that looked like it should have been condemned a couple of decades ago. Dean had wanted to go back to the hotel after they'd salted and burned the spook's bones, but, _no_, Sam had insisted that they go back and poke around the cellar. The ghost looked like it was protecting something, he'd said. It could be important, he'd said.

Important his ass. The ghost had been a kid, and the big treasure she'd been protecting was nothing but a box of old comic books that were in such bad condition that he could barely even tell what they were. Seriously, the next time Dean said that a building looked like it was about to collapse, Sam had better damn well listen to him.

"I'm going to kill him," Dean muttered. "Just as soon as I'm sure he's alive, I swear that I'm going to kill him."

There was some movement above him, some dirt and small debris falling down around him. "Dean?"

Sam's voice was distorted a little by the rubble between them, but Dean could hear the worry in it. He rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you?" he yelled. "Did I not say, hey, this place looks like it's going to fall down on top of us?"

There was a pause. "Well, if you're being a smartass, I guess that means you're not dead," Sam yelled back. He sounded closer than before.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean called. He broke up for a second, coughing again. "You better have a plan for getting me out of here."

Sam didn't say anything. Seconds turned into a minute, and one turned into two. "Yo, Sammy. You up there?"

Above him, there was a rattling sound. Dust poured down all around him, and Dean hurriedly threw his arm over his face. A few seconds later, light poured down directly above him.

Dean blinked, trying to see in the sudden brightness. Sam was staring down at him through a hole in the debris no more than six feet above him, raising an eyebrow. "You coming?"

"Took you long enough," Dean grumbled. He stood up carefully, wrapping an arm protectively around his ribs.

Sam rolled his eyes at him and reached down to give Dean a hand. Then he pulled his hand back, eying Dean's chest warily. "Broken, cracked, or bruised?"

Dean snorted. "It's either choice number two or three."

"You sure?" Sam asked."Give me your damn hand," Dean shot back. "Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to climb up there if they were broken?"

Sam opened his mouth. "Well-"

Dean glared at him.

His mouth twitching, Sam didn't say anything else. He just reached down and let Dean grab his hand, helping pull Dean up out of the cellar.

They sat there for a minute, neither of them saying anything. Then Dean reached over and punched Sam in the arm. Hard.

Sam glared at him. "What was that for?"

Dean glared right back. "Did I not tell you that-"

"-this place looked like it was going to collapse," Sam cut in. "Dean, do you have any idea just how many times you've said that about haunted houses this week alone?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and gestured at the rubble around them. Emphatically. Or, at least, as emphatically as he could while still holding his ribs.

Sam sighed. "Point taken."

"_Now_ can we go back to the hotel?"


End file.
